Their Eyes Were Watching Mama

It was nearly the end of the church service.

I spent most of it standing. Well, standing and bouncing and rocking. Because my little one is getting to that age where he really doesn't nap well in a wrap, anymore, and the more I can move, the more likely he is to fall asleep. So I stood by the stained glass window, the light carrying the colors and painting them across my back, and swayed and rocked and rocked and swayed.

And finally the baby did fall asleep, and I cautiously sat back down next to my husband while the pastor finished his message with the baby's soft breath on my collarbone.

Failing Followers: questioning the qualifications {Blogging through the Bible}

For the past few months, I've been hooked on babywearing.

What started as a practical way to snuggle my boy while also getting things done has become something of an obsession. According to my husband, I watch approximately 100 hours of wrapping videos a week. He knows all the terms, too-- cross passes, slack, top rail, tapers, transfers... and he's never even wrapped himself! Sooo maybe I talk about it too much. Haha. I'm hooked! What can I say.

To be honest, I think it's kept me from getting a little stir crazy- learning new ways to tie my wrap and perfecting the carries that I know already has satisfied my need to be intellectually stimulated, and I've found a community of like-minded geeks online. I like it. I like it a lot. I wear my little fellow almost every day, usually in several different carries a day.

And so, when someone asked me if I'd like doing a beginning baby wrapping class at the nearest Guiding Star, I was excited. I really enjoy sharing my passions (ahem, obsessions) with other people. And my husband would probably appreciate it if I talked to someone, anyone, else about figuring out a double hammock tied saltwater.

But as I thought more about it, the insecurities started popping up.

I mean, I've been wrapping for less than a year. I only just started getting back carries figured out. I've only ever wrapped one child (as opposed to folks who "tandem wear"-- or wear two children at one time). Who am I to teach other people??

Failing Followers: misunderstanding greatness {Blogging through the Bible}

I kind of knew that being a mom would be challenging.

I mean, I've been around kids my whole life- I grew up in a relatively large family, my mom did home daycare for a while, I have oodles of nieces and nephews...

But I guess when I thought about being a parent, I didn't really take into account all the things that came with it. Especially after we waited and prayed for this child for five long years... I guess that I somehow thought that after our battle with infertility, I'd come through the flames infinitely patient and wise and even-tempered.

Cut to last night, rocking my freshly bathed little boy to sleep.... I was actually afraid that I was going to literally drop him as my super-angry little overtired rage monster made serious attempts to throw himself out of my arms while screaming at the top of his tiny lungs.

Failing Followers: stagnant in the sacred {Blogging through the Bible}

I was probably about ten on one particular trip home from Grandma's.

My grandparents lived more than two hours away, which, at ten, felt like an eternity. We were getting back late in the evening, our van quiet with my sleeping sisters, and from my seat in the middle of the van, I felt cozy, warm, secure. I was struck by an overwhelming sense of contentment, and as we pulled into our neighborhood, I piped up and asked, to my parents' confusion-- "Can we drive around for a little longer?"

Mark and Messy Disciples: a review so far {Blogging through the Bible}

Have you ever started a project that turned into something much, much bigger than you'd expected?

I have.

In fact, I do it all the time... (for example, refer to my idea of refinishing the wood floors in our house). I start with the idea and I understand the basic concept, but the actual execution is much, much more intense that I expect.

This devotional series in Mark has been no different.

To be honest, when I started exploring the book of Mark, I kind of thought that pointing out the mistakes the disciples made in this book and then how we as Christians make the same mistakes would be somewhat uncomplicated. What I didn't realize was that this series was going to expose me.

Failing Followers: rejecting the hard truths {Blogging through the Bible}

This past Fall, I sat in our little sterile hospital room in the NICU. I'd just woken up from a nap on the makeshift couch-bed that had been my sleeping spot for more than a month, and my little guy snoozed peacefully in his crib, monitors quiet and his little heart rate bouncing happily on the screen.

It had been a long, long journey. I was worn out, tired from waking up every three hours at feeding times, tired because my body was recovering from surgery, tired because even with all the monitors and nurses, I was terrified that my baby would stop breathing, tired because periodic breathing sucks. The night before had been particularly rough- for some reason my poor tiny baby had been throwing up his feedings, spectacular enormous spit ups that didn't seem normal to me at all, and I was worried. I'd changed his little outfit three times overnight because he just kept soaking it.

My phone rang- it was my husband. I answered the call and relished the sound of his voice- I was tired from missing him, too.

"I have some sad news," he said, and I heard my big strong husband's voice catch a little. "Bear died."

Failing Followers: missing the miracle {Blogging through the Bible}

A few years ago, I was walking home from my job in the office of a Bible Camp to find a camper, a middle-school aged child, alone in the parking lot.

My first, split-second reaction was, He's not supposed to be there. Where is his counselor? Chapel started ten minutes ago.

And then I noticed how still he was. He was just standing there, stock-still (not typical for a middle-school boy). His eyes were fixed on a spot just beyond him.

There was a deer, not a hundred yards away, peacefully grazing on the grass at the edge of the gravel parking lot.

Failing Followers: paralyzed by the need {Blogging though the Bible}

In the morning, I wake to the sound of my phone alarm chimes or to my son cooing in his crib next to me. The sunlight streams through the window to my room, and as I greet the day, everything is quiet and calm. It's a far cry from my college years- living in the heart of the city with car horns and sirens breaking the stillness. Back then, there were people who lived just on the other side of a thin wall, or a stone's throw across a dingy alleyway, and now my closest neighbors are almost a mile away (if you don't count the cows).

And yet, the world seems noisier somehow.

Especially this past week.

I open my computer, or turn on my phone, and the peace of my cozy little haven is shattered, crashed in on by the hurt. By the need.

Because our world, my friends? Our world is loud and it is needy.

There is so much hurt.

Failing Followers: forgetting who we follow {Blogging through the Bible}

Working at a Bible Camp was an awesome experience.

Trevor and I both served in outdoor ministry for several years- and we loved it. Even though both of us had behind-the-scenes jobs, we were still plunged head-first into what I'd call "Camp Culture."

You know, campfire songs and their corresponding actions, large group games in which counselors chase children wielding tube socks full of flour. I know that when someone yells, "God is good!" you're supposed to shout, "All the time!" and then they'll say, "All the time!" to which you respond, "God is good!" And I know about ninety million mealtime prayers... all put to song, also with hand motions and lots of clapping.

Failing Followers: the pressure of popularity {Blogging through the Bible}

When I was in middle school, I was painfully aware of who the popular kids were.

There was one girl in particular... I wanted to be her so badly. She wore name brand clothing she bought from the mall, and I wore hand-me-downs from my cousin. Her hair was perfectly blonde and never had fly-aways; mine was always pulled back in a frizzy ponytail. She took dance lessons and moved so gracefully, even playing volleyball in gym class... and I... well, I was the girl who tripped over her own feet and ducked when the volleyball came my way.

But even more than her clothes, her perfect hair, and her grace; I wanted to be known like she was. Everyone at school knew her name. She was famous- well, as famous as a twelve-year-old in a Wisconsin suburb could be.

I spent those three years of my childhood wishing I could be someone I wasn't- looking for just the right shirt at the second hand store, brushing and brushing my hair, joining the school musicals in hope that I could maybe glean just a little bit of that popularity for myself.

Failing Followers: messy discipleship and the Gospel of Mark {Blogging through the Bible}

There are a lot of things I've never done.

There's an old Veggie Tales song called "The Pirates Who Don't Do Anything.." and sometimes I feel a lot like I should be an honorary pirate.

I've never licked a spark plug, and I've never sniffed a stinkbug, and I've never painted daises on a big red rubber ball. I've never bathed in yogurt, and I don't look good in leggings, and I've never been to Boston in the fall. 

Of course, none of those things really matter all that much, but there are lots of things I've never done that hit a bit closer to home.

Of Bottles and Seasons

I plopped the bottle into the mug of steaming water. It was Thanksgiving day, and not only were we surrounded by our loved ones, but also by those delicious Thanksgiving smells- turkey, pie, corn casserole... it was no wonder that my little guy was getting hungry.

After letting it warm for a while, I sat down to feed him.

"Why are you holding him like that?" my niece asked.

It was a good question.

Beautiful, Unexpected Grace in the Gospel and Adoption {guest post}

November is Adoption Awareness Month, and how better to celebrate the good news of adoption and redemption than to invite a guest blogger to this corner of the internet! 

Naomi has some great words to share with us today about the beauty and grace we find- in adoption, and ultimately, in the Gospel itself. Thanks for joining us today, Naomi! 

Every adoption is born out of two things: trauma and loss. For an infant, who leaves the hospital in the arms of their loving parents- there is trauma and loss. For a toddler, who cannot verbalize their past and calls their new parents "Mommy" and "Daddy" right away- there is trauma and loss. For a school aged child who for the first time is living as a child instead of as a fill-in parent- there is trauma and loss. For a teen, who finally has someone to provide their needs- there is trauma and loss.

Often, adoption is either romaticized or criminalized. The truth this, it is both beautiful and hard. Adoption should be a story of trauma, loss, and grief that is met with love, compassion, and healing.

How can I state what every adoption story should be? Because that's the way our Father wrote our adoption story. And His Word is the standard by which we should be operating.

Motherhood: Wrecking and Recreating Me in the Best Ways {Guest Post}

I'm excited to welcome back Natalie Brenner as a guest poster again today. Natalie is a fellow sister in the infertility struggle, victorious through Jesus. Welcome back, Natalie, we're glad to have you!

When she placed him in my arms, my whole body released a tension I didn’t realize it carried and simultaneously grew a necessary wound in my heart.

The gravity of a tiny life—which wasn’t tiny at all—shifted my whole world, changing me.

I breathed in his sweetness, only to exhale a gripping understanding of the sacred moments I was living.

There in the hospital we existed in complete complexity: immense and unexplainable joy crashing right into immeasurable grief and tragedy.

I could have never prepared for the sacred weight those moments held: his first mama placing him into my arms to become his mama.

Those moments changed me. Those moments of her deeming me worthy to be mother to her son changed me in ways difficult to process.

As I transitioned from childless and waiting to full arms and full heart...so much of myself changed.

Or maybe I simply became more of who I was created to be.

Either way, He has been using motherhood to transform me by placing a magnifying glass over my greatest weaknesses and strengths.

As she handed her son to me, making me mama, I stepped further into who He created me to be.

A confidence I hadn’t yet experienced bubbled up inside of me as I grabbed ahold of the commitment to protect, serve, and raise my new son with everything I had.This confidence created in me a bold courage I didn’t otherwise have.

Simultaneously a humility laid into me, bringing to focus the reality that I had so much to learn and so far to grow. A humility reminding me continuously that he is hers in a way he’ll never be mine, and vice versa. A humility reminding me there are so many hurt humans walking around due to their parents lack of humility...and I was not about to step into parenthood thinking I knew it all.




Becoming a mom has made me both more fierce and more gentle.

Motherhood has been teaching me the importance of courage and bravery, even when unpopular and uncomfortable. Motherhood has been teaching me the importance of sitting on my hands and listening to other’s experiences without trying to teach in return. Motherhood has been teaching me both speaking up and quieting down, honesty and grace infused in every piece.

Becoming a mama has changed me by inching me further along in my process of becoming more like Him. It is sanctifying in all the hardest ways, demanding my self-control and patience, demanding I set aside idols and ideals and control.

I’ve only been at this mama-thing for just shy of 19 months. By the grace of Jesus, I have two one year olds. Mothering has stretched me thin and also built me up. It has taught me patience and endurance. It has cracked my heart wide open in the best ways possible and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.



Before I was made mama, I thought motherhood would be hard...but I also thought it would be a delight.

It is. It is such a delight and such a gift and something I do my best not to take for granted.

Becoming a mom has changed me and wrecked me and broken me and is recreating me...and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

NATALIE BRENNER is wife to Loren and mom to two under two. She authored This Undeserved Life: Uncovering the gifts of grief and fullness of life which will be released September 18. She likes her wine red, ice cream served by the pint, and conversations vulnerable.

Natalie believes in the impossible and hopes to create safe spaces for every fractured soul. You can love Jesus or not, go to church or not: she'd love to have coffee with you. Natalie is a bookworm, a speaker, and a wanna-be runner. Connect with her at NatalieBrennerWrites.com and join her popular email list.

Preorder her book, email her “I preordered,” and receive pretty prints: This Undeserved Life
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DISCLOSURE: In order for me to support my blogging habit, I may receive monetary compensation or other types of remuneration for my endorsement, recommendation, testimonial and/or link to any products or services from this blog. You may see a full disclosure by clicking on my "About" page. I will only promote products that I use, enjoy, or take a shine to. All opinions and reviews are my own and are not influenced by any compensation I may receive.

He Is with Me + He Is Trustworthy {Guest Post}

I'm honored to share my little space here today with Natalie Brenner, a fellow sister in the infertility struggle, victorious through Jesus. I asked her how her journey of infertility and loss shaped her faith and her understanding of who God is, and I know you'll love her thoughts just as much as I do. 

I’ve always been a Jesus girl.

In middle school I had a crush on Ethan Souers and he wrote me a little note saying I was the most Christian-girl he’d ever known. My heart swooned and I was sure I’d marry him.

I didn’t marry him but I did carry around his flattering compliment. I carried it with me as a reminder that people notice when we have great faith, people see when we genuinely love Jesus, even when we aren’t trying to put on a show. I simply loved Jesus and wanted to love other people like Him, even in my flawed, awkward, middle school stage of life.

He was with me when my parents yelled and fought, I knew He’d be with me forever. He deemed Himself trustworthy to me at a young age.

Saving My Sanity in the First Trimester

As soon as that second line showed up on that pregnancy test, my anxiety level went through the roof.

Infertility has tossed me into a community with lots of testimonies of all the struggles of early pregnancy- HCG levels, low progesterone, spotting and heart rates and all the things that could go wrong. I knew more than many people about all the risks facing me, and man. I worried.

So I spent most of my fifth week of pregnancy researching symptoms, reading forums, freaking out, hanging around in the comments section of Pregnant Chicken, crying for no real reason (thanks progesterone injections!), and googling "How Not To Freak Out First Trimester."

Obviously, it was a very productive week. Ha. I got even less productive about a week later when I added morning sickness into the mix. Feeling crummy and getting stuff done do not jive well.

Now that I'm (finally) past the first fourteen weeks, I've been looking back at some of the more healthy ways I coped with the stress and sickness that came along with those first few months.

Surrender

Tonight, after we got home from work, my husband Trevor and I got into a fight.

The reason for our big blow out?

Well, I partially blame pregnancy hormones (because man, they are a-raging...), but really, the conflict surrounded a camping trip. A bachelor-party-type camping trip that Trevor's been planning for his cousin. I'm not even going. But see, the issue was that my husband, in getting ready for this trip, was doing everything wrong.

Pregnancy After Infertility

Pregnancy after years of infertility is hard.

It's complicated in ways that I didn't expect. While lots of newly pregnant ladies are busy looking up bassinets and bonnets, I spend much more time researching potential issues and learning how to do injections. Financially, emotionally, physically... being pregnant after dealing with infertility is just different.

Granted, we've been very, very blessed with a healthy and easy pregnancy so far- I'm sure that many of my formerly infertile sisters could add many things to this list that I've been fortunate enough not to experience- but I've found that so far, the biggest differences are medical stuff, fear, jealousy, and guilt.

For this Child...

"For this child I prayed, and the Lord has granted me my petition that I made to him." - 1 Samuel 1:27

We are overwhelmed with God's love, and excited to announce that our little miracle will be arriving in November!

I know that there have been many of you who have prayed for us throughout our infertility journey. Thank you for your prayers, and we are so incredibly filled with joy as we now ask you to lift up prayers of thanksgiving for this amazing blessing!

DISCLOSURE: In order for me to support my blogging habit, I may receive monetary compensation or other types of remuneration for my endorsement, recommendation, testimonial and/or link to any products or services from this blog. You may see a full disclosure by clicking on my "About" page. I will only promote products that I use, enjoy, or take a shine to. All opinions and reviews are my own and are not influenced by any compensation I may receive.

Come to the Table: Enough

It's noon on a typical Saturday... one of those Saturdays that make me wish this wasn't typical.

Saturdays are demanding. And this Saturday in particular is one in the same. The phone is ringing, the little sleigh bells I put on the doors are jingling merrily as guests arrive, and I still don't have a single guide in the outpost to help contain the crazy, to help direct the crowds.

I feel a bit like sitting on the floor behind my desk so no one can see me.

A customer comes upstairs to alert me to the fact that there's no toilet paper in the bathroom (again), just as the first guide rounds the corner, frustrated because he worked hard and didn't get the tip he thought he'd earned, and I've just about had it.



For someone who struggles with people-pleasing as much as I do, this job has been.... stretching. Between conflicts with customers and disappointed (sometimes whiny) staff members, I feel like I'm not making anyone happy. No one at all.

I just don't have enough. 

I know in my head that this feeling isn't unique to this job or to this season of life... we all feel like this from time to time. Whether you're a teacher, parent, computer engineer... I think we all say it on those hard days. 

I don't have enough. 

I yell in my mind at all these people.

What do you want from me? I can't do everything!

And those words, repeated like a mantra, become my war chant. No more mercy, no more grace- I've given all I have to give.